


boy in red, man in a mask

by Caori



Series: Moirai [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Minor whump, Stabbing Mention, mars is a moody hermit, ollie is a sunchild child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caori/pseuds/Caori
Summary: "Sorry for bleeding out on your couch, by the way.”“Doesn’t matter. I can replace it.”Ah. That easy, huh? How loaded was that guy? “Okay then,Mr Wayne,“ the young man chuckled then immediately winced-ow, ow, right, stab wound, okay.He looked back up at the other, who only blinked in apparent confusion.“That’s… not my name?”“You sure? The bigass manor, the mask, all the mystery,” he wiggled his fingers around, “You kinda fit the part.”“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”Ollie rolled his eyes. “Fiiine, keep your secrets then."
Series: Moirai [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986730
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	boy in red, man in a mask

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Arc 1 - Outside, right after Crash.

It was a pretty beautiful morning, all things considered. Clear skies with only a few funny-shaped clouds, following a starry night with only a few creeps to beat into the ground. Usual stuff.

Granted, his current predicament was an… unexpected development. Ending up in a total stranger’s house, bleeding all over his very comfy and expensive-looking couch, in his _very_ expensive-looking living room, in his VERY big and expensive-looking house-

I mean shit, could it even be called a house? This place was _gigantic!_ Like, _Wayne Manor_ levels of classy. With a hint of creepy, what with all the covered mirrors. Seriously, what was up with those?

“I called for help. No, it’s not an ambulance or the police, I heard you just fine the first time.”

Ollie closed his mouth, the words dying on his tongue. He pouted at the taller man’s stern inflexion and let out a pained huff, but he stayed put. _C’mon Ollie, don’t be a brat- the guy’s helping. Surprisingly._

On top of the sharp pain in his side and arm, and the dizziness from the blood loss, Ollie was majorly confused by the man’s… well, everything. First off, he wasn’t sure if he had been his eyes playing tricks on him, but he could’ve sworn the man’s face had been bare when he’d fallen into his garden. Then he’d blinked, and then it wasn’t. Now, the man before him -tall, _very_ tall, and gangly as all hell- was sporting a curious, sleek black cat mask, and possibly the _biggest_ fucking pair of glasses Oliver had ever seen someone wear in real life. Perfectly round, rimless and red-tinted for some reason, they prevented him from making out the color of the guy’s eyes.

His unimpressed, irritated glare could have been a little intimidating...if the guy wasn’t wearing a tacky hawaiian shirt with colorful birds on it. Ollie wasn’t sure what his deal was, but from his long, messy brown hair, unkept beard and questionable fashion sense, it all gave off the impression that Bird-lover here hadn’t stepped out of his house for a really long time.

Ollie had asked about the mask, but the man had just tensed and stayed silent. That had been Ollie’s cue to stop asking personal questions- which was, y’know, _fair,_ as he’d literally just interrupted his morning stroll by crashing through his ceiling, offering no explanation as to why _that_ had happened.

Come to think of it… yeah, the guy had every reason and _then_ some to call the cops. But he hadn’t. Not yet at least. So really, Ollie was doing _great_ so far. 

The moment the young dyed-haired man had made eye contact with the stranger after his fall, he’d frantically asked, if not _begged_ him not to call anyone. Well… that was actually the _second_ thing he’d said, the first being asking the guy to _please stop screaming at me, I don’t even understand- is that french?_

He’d gotten away with a lot of things, for a very long time. He wasn’t about to get busted for one little mistake. It was just a stab wound! He’d survived those before. And while _yes_ , he might’ve gotten a bit lost on his way back, taking a few wrong turns whenever the pain in his side made his vision go white and his grip on his grappling hook loosen, and then before he knew it the sun was rising and he had no idea where he was anymore and then he misfired and then became acquainted with the glass ceiling of a greenhouse...

“-hear me? Hello? Hey, ça va ?”

Oliver blinked- Mask-guy was kneeling on the carpet next to the couch and snapping his fingers in front of Ollie’s face, now looking more panicked than annoyed. Aw, beans. He’d lost his trail of thought. Also, he was pretty sure he’d been sitting before. When had he laid down? Ugh… his side was pulsing. And his head was all foggy.

“You blacked out,” Kitty Carnaval said, and that’s when Ollie noticed his palms were covered in red. “I stopped the bleeding, but it still needs to be cleaned. Probably stitched.”

The vigilante looked down at himself- his hoodie was gone, his shirt creeping up his chest to uncover his abdomen. A thick patch of gauze had been applied against his wound, tight wrappings around his middle keeping it secure. 

Huh. It looked pretty decent- better that what he would’ve managed on his own. His chest felt a bit constricted, he’d probably breathe a little easier if he took his binder off… but he wasn’t _too_ excited at the prospect of doing that in front of a total stranger. So he took it in stride. “Wh… where’s my…”

The man pointed to a clear plastic bag next to the coffee table a few feet from the couch- his trusty red hoodie was visibly bundled inside. Still very much soaked with blood and with one more stabby-hole than how he liked it. But hey- that’s why he wore red. And he could fix the tear. It’d be fine… probably. “Um. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Really, _don’t_ ,” the stranger grumbled, getting up and walking out of the room. Ollie craned his neck, curious, but quickly settled back down when quiet splashing sounds assured him that the man was just washing his hands.

 _Okay. Things are fine. Everything’s hunky-dory._ “So uh. You been to France?” he said lightly in an attempt at smalltalk, remembering the words -probably swears given the context- the man had thrown at him earlier.

“Born there.” the other’s even voice responded curtly over the water-y sounds.

The vigilante let out an excited _oh_. “...Can youuuu say something else in french?”

“No. Help’s coming any minute to really assess the damage, so please don’t move. And talk less.”

Sheesh. Well, at least that had to mean that this mysterious helper was a doctor, or at least something similar. 

“Who’d that be? Friend of yours?”

“Something like that. He won’t ask… _too_ many questions.”

So a doctor-ish person with questionable ethics. This was getting weirder and weirder… but also, really exciting. “Cool beans.” he sighed, trying to exhale the tension out of his body as the sound of running water soothed him somewhat.

After another minute, _Gatito_ re-appeared from the other room, with spotless hands and wet sleeves. “Do you have a way to get home safely?”

Oliver blinked. He hadn’t even thought about that- he usually dragged himself home after a scuffle, but that probably wasn’t smart given the pain still flaring in his side. “Uh, yeah. I can call my roommate so she can pick me up.”

Oh _dio_ , Nana was going to kick his ass into the sun for pulling that stunt. He felt bad for putting her through that, but he knew she’d kick his ass even harder if he hid this from her.

“Good. We’ll patch you up properly, and if you don’t need further assistance, you’ll leave.”

Mh. He seemed _real_ eager to see him go… even for someone having to deal with an unwanted guest. He was jittery, biting on his nails and fiddling with strands of his hair, like he was getting more nervous every minute Oliver spent on his property.

Weird. Maybe he was just a misanthrope? That would certainly explain the grumpy hermit vibes.

Still didn’t explain the mask though… “Fine, fine, promise I’ll get out of your hair soon. Sorry for bleeding out on your couch, by the way.”

“Doesn’t matter. I can replace it.”

Ah. That easy, huh? How loaded was that guy? “Okay then, _Mr Wayne_ ,“ the young man chuckled then immediately winced- _ow, ow, right, stab wound, okay._ He looked back up at the other, who only blinked in apparent confusion.

“That’s… not my name?”

“You sure? The bigass manor, the mask, all the _mystery_ ,” he wiggled his fingers around, “You kinda fit the part.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ollie rolled his eyes. “Fiiine, keep your secrets then. Can you at least tell me your name? Feels weird calling you like, ‘mask man’ and ‘cat boy’ in my head.”

The stranger went silent once again, a conflicted expression on his face. Like he was being forced to choose between eating a particularly sour lemon, and pouring the juice of said lemon into his eyes. Almost a full minute passed before he opened his mouth again.

“...Mars.” he finally offered, averting his gaze. “If you really have to know.”

Mars expected confusion. Skepticism. Maybe even mocking laughter. But instead, the young spitfire flashed him a million-watt smile. “That’s an _awesome_ name. I’m Ollie.”

Then there was a knock on the door.

**Author's Note:**

> and here we can see the ollie in his natural habitat, by @kitsickles on twitter  
> 


End file.
